


writing the book when you've forgotten the title

by ryankellycc



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Domestic Fluff, Gen, Living Together, M/M, Winter, check notes for other pairings, everyone is in love, supportive Daichi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 03:32:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13091529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryankellycc/pseuds/ryankellycc
Summary: When Suga quit his job the week before, he left corporate blog posts and daily word counts behind without so much as a glance. He had been ready to stretch his atrophied writing wings and fly off into the land of investigative journalism, to soar in like a beacon of light, to lift his community to heights unknown.Unfortunately, his wings weren’t strong enough to carry him, and his first assignment sent him crashing to the ground.(A story in which Suga overthinks, calls on his friends for help, and realizes a thing or two in the process. Written forssho25as part of thehaikyuuwriterssecret santa exchange!)





	writing the book when you've forgotten the title

**Author's Note:**

> So... Ssho mentioned domestic fluff, and I was like, how does one write domestic fluff?? Oh! I know! I’ll project hardcore and write about someone WRITING about how to write domestic fluff and figure out a bunch of stuff along the way. Hope you enjoy, and that you don't mind how intensely meta this story is!! 
> 
> Daisuga is the main pairing, but iwaoi, tsukkiyama, asanoya, and kagehina are in here too.

When Suga quit his job the week before, he left corporate blog posts and daily word counts behind without so much as a glance. He had been ready to stretch his atrophied writing wings and fly off into the land of investigative journalism, to soar in like a beacon of light, to lift his community to heights unknown. 

Unfortunately, his wings weren’t strong enough to carry him, and his first assignment sent him crashing to the ground.

Still under the comforter, he palmed the cold sheets on Daichi’s side of the bed, and then tucked his hand back under his chest, puffing a disgruntled breath into the pillow. The only noises in the room were the muted city songs of bustling commuters as they made their way across Sendai to sit in their offices, stores, courtrooms, and classrooms. Daichi was one of them, a suit in the sea, and, if Suga had to guess, he was seated at his desk already, the first one there. 

Suga squirmed in bed for at least another half hour before giving into the bright December day and shuffled to the kitchen, standing next to the sink while he munched on cold rice straight from the fridge. He flipped the switch of the hot water kettle and it gurgled to life, making him unreasonably jealous. 

One flip of a switch and everything just… happens.

He frowned at the empty plastic container and dropped it in the sink before grabbing a mug and trudging the ten steps to their spare bedroom, which doubled as his home office, complete with a tiny second-hand desk they got from a neighbor, a rolled up futon that doubled as an extra surface for papers and file folders, and piles of books so tall that they hid the actual bookshelf along the wall.

He had dreamed about this opportunity for years, so why the hell couldn’t he sit down and type?

At the interview with The Weekly, he was told that he would be able to write pieces that went straight to the heart of the gay community in Sendai. It was his community, one that thrummed vibrantly just underneath the surface of public life, one that Suga loved. He pictured his new editor’s smile as she had said, “since it’s getting colder and we all need a little extra warmth in our lives, why don’t you write us a nice piece about what it’s like to live with a partner? It’ll be a great way to get your feet wet!”

A hard-earned degree in journalism and years of professional writing under his belt and this is how he would debut as a new staff writer? He wasn’t against puff pieces, but he was disappointed, and he dipped the tea strainer in and out of his mug absentmindedly, enjoying the small clinks of the metal against ceramic.

He was disappointed in the assignment, but even more disappointed in himself, because, if there was someone who could write about how much they loved living with their partner, it should be him, and if it should be him then why couldn’t he think of anything to say? 

His phone buzzed with a message from Asahi, and, mid-reply, Suga realized that there might be a way to utilize his skills after all. He rushed the message to Asahi, then tapped out a handful of other messages, sending them off into the world. 

It was time to call in the troops.

* * *

They sat around a small table, all three of them at the same height, yet somehow Oikawa still looked down at him, blinking at Suga through obscenely thick lashes. 

“Tell me, Suga-chan, why do you so desperately need our help?”

“I wouldn’t say desperately,” Suga said, as sweetly as one could through gritted teeth. “And I assumed you read my follow-up email, Oikawa-san, because you replied to it.”

“I might’ve scanned it.”

Suga cleared his throat and tapped his pen on the table with no real rhythm. He had practiced the lines in his head on the way over, but Oikawa never made things easy. “Like I said in the email, which you replied to, I’m writing an article for The Weekly about living with your partner and, since you got back to me within minutes of my sending the request, I figured you wanted to help.”

“Haven’t you and Sawamura lived together forever though?” Iwaizumi asked, cutting Oikawa off before his feathers could fully ruffle. 

“They have,” Oikawa said cooly, “which is why I’m curious as to why he’s sitting at our table with a bag of melon bread from the bakery that we love and a pleading look on his face.”

“You love.”

Oikawa cocked his head at Iwaizumi, his hair rippling unfairly over his forehead. 

“The bakery that you love,” Iwaizumi repeated.

“Excuse me?” Oikawa said, stretching his neck and lifting his chin in the air. “I seem to remember a certain someone insisting that we go there after our run last weekend.”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi scoffed. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have shut up.”

Oikawa brought a hand up to his heart and clutched at his shirt. “Insulted in my own home, Iwa-chan, I’m hurt.” 

Suga blew air over his lips to try to get their attention back and hide his own frustration. “If you guys just answer my questions, I’ll be out of your hair and you can enjoy your free breakfast, okay?”

“Oh, I like grumpy Suga-chan!” Oikawa said, clapping his hands. He pretended to think long and hard about his next statement, then pinched Iwaizumi’s arm. “Gives you a run for your money, Iwa-chan. Maybe I’ll date him instead!”

“Shut up,” Iwaizumi grumbled. 

A smile crept into the corners of Oikawa’s lips. He took Iwaizumi’s hand and kissed his palm. Iwaizumi watched him with a scowl, but didn’t pull away. “You’re embarrassing.”

Suga didn’t get very far with the questions he had prepared, which he’d half-expected, so he fell back on observation, holding his pen at the ready and letting Oikawa and Iwaizumi take the lead. 

Iwaizumi got up to make tea, Oikawa followed him into the kitchenette, and Suga just watched as Oikawa sidled up next to Iwaizumi, reaching over him for cups while Iwaizumi filled the kettle from the sink. When the kettle was full, they seamlessly switched spots, and Iwaizumi kissed Oikawa on the cheek as he poured water into the pot that Oikawa had set down in front of him. They moved in tandem like ballet dancers, like their bodies were made only for orbiting the other.

Maybe they didn’t need words, Suga thought.

When Suga left for lunch, he found Daichi back at the apartment, flipping through his phone in the living room. Suga flopped down next to him. “You’re home?”

“I had some extra time for lunch and didn’t feel like going out,” Daichi said with a shrug. He kissed Suga’s forehead when Suga snuggled closer. “Plus, you didn’t seem too pleased this morning.”

“Am I pleased about anything in the morning?” 

“No, you’re not,” Daichi laughed, “but your pout was especially intense when I left the house.”

“You know what spending more than thirty minutes with Oikawa does to me.”

Daichi snorted. “You were the one that asked for his help.”

“I know, and I did. I do! It’s my first article for The Weekly, Daichi. It has to be good.” Daichi knew all about Suga’s first assignment, and if he was upset that his own boyfriend needed outside help on an article about living with a significant other, he didn’t show it. Suga was grateful. “So, lunch?”

“Leftovers,” Daichi said, getting up from the couch and motioning to the kitchen. “That okay?”

“More than okay! That curry was amazing,” Suga gushed, following closely behind Daichi as they made their way to the kitchen, where the rice cooker was already steaming and a lidded pot bubbled on the stove. Suga went straight for the cupboards to set the table and Daichi hovered over the stovetop.

“That’s only the twentieth time you’ve mentioned it since we left the restaurant last night.”

“That’s because the curry WAS amazing,” Suga said. “And that’s twenty-one for you!”

Daichi pointed the curry spoon at Suga, and Suga was tempted to lick it, but Daichi’s face was set in stone. “Alright, that’s enough out of you.”

Suga’s lips lifted in a lazy grin, dimpling his cheeks. “You love me.”

Without skipping a beat, Daichi replied.

“I do.”

* * *

The next day, Suga sat with Yamaguchi under his kotatsu and sipped a cup of surprisingly fragrant black tea, “Tsukki’s favorite,” Yamaguchi said. Suga had been to Tsukishima and Yamaguchi’s only a handful of times, but the warmth of the place still caught him off guard. There were small touches everywhere, printed photographs, art, small candles, little throw-away figurines, which made it obvious that the two people who lived there loved their space.

It was obvious to Suga, at least, but you’d never know from actually talking to Tsukishima. When Suga had texted everyone about the informal interviews, Tsukishima hadn’t said anything. 

“I’m still a little miffed that Tsukishima didn’t want to join us,” Suga said, nipping into one of the cookies that Yamaguchi had held up in front of him. He closed his eyes in delight and chewed slowly. “God these are good, did you actually make them?”

Yamaguchi nodded enthusiastically. “I did! And I’m so glad you like them. Tsukki said they were too sweet but he ended up eating, like, half the batch,” he laughed. “It’s probably for the best that Tsukki didn’t join us, though. The last thing he wants to do after a day of wrangling undergrads is talk about feelings.”

“Understandable,” Suga admitted, taking another cookie off the plate. “How’s grad school treating him?”

“School itself is fine, Tsukki loves it, and the teaching part is challenging, but it’s the other students in his program that really get him going. Honestly sometimes it reminds me of how him and Kageyama were, but worse, if you can imagine it!”

Suga snorted. “Dear lord.”

“Yeah,” Yamaguchi said, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “They’re nice enough people, but I actually get where Tsukki is coming from. It’s impossible to talk to some of them about literally anything other than dinosaur bones. Anyway,” he said, interrupting his own train of thought. “You wanted to ask me questions?”

“I do!” Reluctantly, Suga put the cookie in his hand down on the plate. He gave Yamaguchi the little speech he had planned to give Oikawa, and to Yamaguchi’s credit he listened intently, leaning forward to catch every word. 

“Cool, but we just moved in together, so I’m not sure how helpful I’ll be…” Suga hit him lightly in the shoulder, making Yamaguchi held his hands up in surrender. “Okay! I’ll try! It’s just that I’m still getting used to it.”

Suga brought out his pocket notebook and held his pen at the ready. “You’ve known each other your whole lives, doesn’t that make living together easier?” 

“No? Maybe? I don’t know, but it definitely feels different.”

“Could you elaborate?” Suga asked. His curiosity piqued, not just for the article but for himself. While Yamaguchi was still getting used to living with Tsukishima, Suga was at a loss to imagine his life without Daichi at home.

“Yeah! Um.” Yamaguchi ran a hand through his hair, which was much longer than Suga had remembered it being. “It’s different, having spent so much time together as kids, then officially dating, then whatever we were while Tsukki was in Europe studying, then living together back here in Japan. He’s different at home, I swear it’s like he’s softer. And it’s nice,” Yamaguchi said, averting his eyes. “It’s a side of him that not many people ever see, one that I didn’t really see until we lived together.”

Suga did all he could to keep his jaw from dropping and made a valiant effort to hide the surprise in his voice. “It’s a shame he didn’t come, then. I would’ve loved to call him out on it.”

Yamaguchi chuckled. “Not sure I’d ever actually admit that in front of him. And I’d hate to hear what he had to say about me! He’d probably tell you that I leave my towels all over the place, or that I don’t clean dishes immediately after using them.”

Suga felt for Yamaguchi; Daichi would probably tell them all about how he snoozes his alarm for at least an hour every morning, or how he eats all of the ice cream without Daichi getting any, or how he checks the mail and doesn’t bring it in unless there’s something he actually wants to open. It would probably take years to list everything. 

“Suga?” Yamaguchi asked. He was just short of raising his hand to wave it in front of Suga’s face.

“Right,” Suga said, clearing his throat. “Sorry, was just thinking. In your case, though, I doubt Tsukishima would keep those things to himself if they really pissed him off.”

“You might be right… He can be a bit blunt. Which is good! I always know where he stands on things.”

Suga nodded with a smile, allowed himself to pick up another cookie, and let the conversation stray into less formal territory so that they could catch up properly. It wasn’t until Suga was at home, transcribing his conversation with Yamaguchi, that his phone buzzed.

Tsukishima’s name came up on the screen and Suga unlocked it with bated breath. The last time Tsukishima texted him was six months earlier, to wish him a happy birthday. 

From: Tsukishima Kei  
>Best part of living with Yamaguchi is getting to see him get angry. 

Suga worked right up until the front door of the apartment clicked shut, and he didn’t think much of it until he heard Daichi drop his bag harder than necessary. Suga rolled his chair to the doorway and poked his head into the hall. Daichi was unbuttoning his coat and Suga didn’t like the scowl etched into every crevice of his face. 

“Hey handsome,” he called. “Come here often?”

Daichi tried to smile in return, but couldn’t manage it. “Sorry, rough day.”

Before Suga could respond, his stomach growled. He hadn’t realized how it late it was, and how late Daichi had gotten home. 

“You haven’t eaten yet?” 

Suga winced. “No, I must’ve worked through lunch again. If you’ve already eaten I can just-”

Daichi held up his hand and Suga closed his mouth. He hadn’t taken two steps into the house, but Daichi pulled out his phone, dialed the take-out place next door, and ordered them dinner. 

Later that evening, when the table was littered with empty paper containers, Suga sat with Daichi’s head in his lap and his fingers in his hair. It was a bit on the scruffy side, but Suga didn’t mind. He liked the way the very tips of Daichi’s hair curled, and how thick it got.

“And my boss just looks at me like I’m an idiot. I make one mistake on the monthly reports and he has to point it out in front of everyone, and I have to just stand there in front of my own employees and take it while he goes on and on about how poor of an example I am. And the worst part is that he might be right.”

It physically hurt Suga to see Daichi like this. It hurt him that someone like Daichi could succumb to insecurity, like it wasn’t blindingly obvious how valuable he was to everyone around him, and still manage to put on a brave face for the world.

Suga’s strokes through Daichi’s hair were delicate, but his words were not. “He’s not right. He sucks, and everyone knows it. I’ll fight him. Just say the word and I’m there.”

Daichi turned and put his face in Suga’s stomach, letting out a puff of air that tickled Suga, making him laugh. “No fighting,” Daichi mumbled into Suga’s shirt. 

“Fine,” Suga huffed. “Only because we’re home and you’re safe here.”

“Home,” Daichi repeated quietly. “Thank god. How was Yamaguchi?”

“So good,” Suga said. “I forgot how much I loved their apartment.” He felt Daichi smile into his stomach.

“And Tsukishima? Could he make it?”

“No, he’s being a cagey prick, as usual.”

The comment made Daichi laugh, and Suga wanted to sink into the reverberations that shook Daichi’s body against his.

* * *

Suga scooted closer to the corner of the table to avoid Nishinoya’s arms as he punched through the air and Daichi leaned forward to scoop Nishinoya’s empty bowl out from under him right as his hand swooped down, hitting air instead of ceramic. Suga patted Daichi’s knee under the table and Daichi winked back at him. 

“These guys were massive, seriously. Even Ryuu had a hard time holding one of ‘em back. Then, oh man!” Nishinoya said, his voice getting louder and louder. “Fists started flying and it was nuts. I was the bar manager in charge for the night, so it was all on me.”

Asahi looked visibly queasy as he watched Nishinoya regale Suga and Daichi with his latest story from work. The last time Nishinoya had tried to step between a fight, he had ended up with a black eye and Asahi was so upset that Suga had burst through the door of their house after the one-word text message for help thinking that Asahi was the one in trouble.

Nishinoya glanced at Asahi, who picked at the last remaining pieces of rice just to focus on something other than the story. “I would’ve stepped in,” Nishinoya clarified, “but I had a responsibility to everyone in the bar, you know? So I called the cops and let them deal with it.”

Asahi must’ve heard the story before, but he still let out the breath he had been holding and his shoulders sunk with relief. Nishinoya nudged him with a grin until Asahi was smiling, too. 

“Barf,” Suga said, making Daichi snort. 

“Like you guys are any better,” Asahi said, glaring at the spot where Suga’s hand disappeared under the table, still resting on Daichi’s knee. 

Daichi rolled his eyes. “Like this is worse? Don’t be such a baby.”

They got into this particular argument more often than any of them wanted to admit, and Nishinoya interrupted them before Suga could get up out of his chair to swat at Asahi. 

“Oh! I can’t believe we forgot to tell you! We’re planning a trip this summer!”

Asahi paled, and the greenish tint to his skin successfully distracted Suga. He sat back back in his chair. “What kind of trip?”

“Cliff jumping, and I’m gonna make Asahi do it with me.”

“Nishinoya!”

Suga moved a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter, but it didn’t work. Daichi had no such compunction, he was openly wheezing. 

“I’ve already done all the research,” Nishinoya said quickly. “There’s actually a place right outside of Tokyo that has baby cliffs and there’s always staff on call to help beginners, as well as a first aid person. We’ll start there and work our way up!”

Asahi bit the inside of his cheek as he looked over Nishinoya’s face, the way his hands were clasped in front of him, and the way his knee bounced under the table. He sucked in a breath. “You really looked everything up already?”

Nishinoya beamed. “Yup!” 

“What about accident statistics? Liability waivers?”

“Yup and yup! I have ‘em printed out at work, just have to bring them home. We’ll read through them together and you can point out all the important bits.”

Asahi pursed his lips, and Suga wasn’t sure what he expected, but he definitely didn’t expect Asahi to nod and say, “Oh, okay. Good. Maybe tomorrow?”

“Cool!” Nishinoya shouted triumphantly. 

Neither Daichi nor Suga was fast enough to snatch the glass away before Nishinoya whacked it with the back of his hand and sent it flying.

After Asahi and Nishinoya left, Suga hummed to himself as he dried dishes.

“Do you really think Nishinoya will get Asahi to jump off a giant rock?” 

“Maybe. I don’t really know,” Daichi admitted. “If anyone could coax him into doing it, it’d be Nishinoya though. They’re a good team.” He handed Suga a dripping plate. “Did you get what you needed for your article?”

Suga held the plate up to the light after he dried it, then put it on top of the other plates in the cabinet. “Not really. I got a little carried away, yapping about everything else. It’s fine, though I’ll cobble something together.”

“Your yapping is cute,” Daichi said. “And I hope it’s okay, but I mentioned it to them on their way out. Asahi said that he and Nishinoya could send you something later tonight, if you’re interested.”

Suga dropped his dish towel on the counter and pressed himself against Daichi’s back, wrapping his arms around his waist. He squeezed tightly, proportionate to his gratitude, and buried his nose in the short, soft hairs on the nape of Daichi’s neck. “Thanks,” Suga said into Daichi’s skin. Then, he looked over Daichi’s shoulder at the plate he was washing and pointed. “You missed a spot.” 

Without skipping a beat, Daichi flicked water at Suga’s face and Suga yelped, taking cover behind the breadth of Daichi’s shoulders.

* * *

Kageyama and Hinata were the last ones that Suga wanted to talk to before sitting down to write, and they were the hardest ones to get in touch with, which was why Suga was huddled in his office at two in the morning, watching the little Skype bubbles expand and collapse with bleary eyes and questions about his life choices.

When the call when through, they were in the middle of arguing, their faces appearing and reappearing, Suga catching glimpses of their hands, the hotel bed, the walls, and the ceiling as they moved the laptop around.

“We need the books, Bakageyama!”

“No way, this table’s higher.”

“We DO.”

“Like hell we do, I just said the table’s higher.”

“It’s NOT, we needed books the last time we were here!”

“You weren’t even there the last time, all we need to do is tilt the screen.” 

“The glare is too bright to tilt the screen!”

Suga cleared his throat and Hinata’s face lit up immediately. He pushed Kageyama out of the way, getting so close to the computer camera that all Suga could see was Hinata’s face. 

“Suga-san! Were you there the whole time?!”

“Just for a little while,” Suga admitted. 

Hinata’s brow furrowed. “Then I’m sorry that Kageyama-kun is being a big dumbhead and we didn’t notice.”

At the mention of Kageyama’s name, the collar of Hinata’s shirt tightened as he was pulled back on the bed, next to Kageyama. Side by side, Hinata was completely dwarfed by his professional athlete boyfriend. 

“I’m the dumbhead,” Kageyama muttered under his breath, then lifted his eyes toward the camera. “Hey, Suga-san, sorry,” he said, bowing his head quickly.

Suga waved off the apology with a flick of his wrist. “Don’t mind, don’t mind!”

“Well?!” Hinata said, leaning forward. “How is everyone? We miss you guys!” Kageyama made a face and Hinata turned to him, poking him in the ribs. “Don’t make that face Tobio, you do to. You were literally just asking me to call Tsukishima.”

“They’re fine,” Suga said, giggling behind his hand. “But I’m here to talk to you two! Did you get my email?”

“We did,” Kageyama nodded. “But we don’t really live together?” Hinata grunted and crossed his arms over his chest. Kageyama backtracked immediately. “I meant that we don’t like together like the way you and Daichi-san do.”

“You travel the world together,” Suga pointed out. “So you do live together in the sense that you share your lives, right?”

Hinata tapped Kageyama’s shoulder, and Kageyama stretched his neck so that Hinata could whisper in his ear. Kageyama’s facial journey started with confusion, then morphed into disgust, then, finally acceptance and a curt nod.

“Okay! Before we start talking about that, though, I have exciting news! Kageyama’s gonna be the captain next year!”

Kageyama tried to play it off casually, but Suga caught the dusting of red on his cheeks as he turned his head.

“Kageyama!” Suga squealed. He clapped his hands over his cheeks and let his smile reach his ears. “That’s great! Well-earned and overdue, but great!”

“Just a stepping stone to bigger things,” Kageyama said with a shrug, still looking away from the laptop.

Hinata was aghast. He pushed Kageyama so hard that he almost fell off the edge of the bed where they were perched. “Don’t be like that! It’s amazing! I mean, if I were on the team, I’d have been the captain way sooner, but it’s really, really, cool!”

Kageyama brought a hand up to the back of his neck and mumbled something Suga couldn’t hear, then Hinata told him to speak up, so Kageyama repeated himself. “There’s a big press conference with interviews and stuff, which is annoying. All of that stuff distracts me from the team.”

“He’s just nervous about being on camera because he still can’t tie a tie,” Hinata giggled. 

“I don’t need to know how to tie a tie.”

“I guess you don’t NEED to, but you should know.”

“That’s why you’re here,” Kageyama said. 

Suga suppressed a smile, afraid to ruin the moment. “Hinata ties your ties?”

“And I help him practice for interviews, and help him practice when the team goes home, and help him plan his nutrition, and make our travel arrangements,” Hinata said, counting each action off on his fingers for show.

“Have you thought about settling down at all?” Suga asked. “It must be hard on you especially, Hinata?”

They both looked at Suga like he was trying to explain a complex math equation, mouths agape. Then, Kageyama’s brow furrowed and he scowled.

“I guess, if that’s what Shouyou wanted…”

Hinata flailed his arms, barely missing Kageyama’s head. “And have you just leave me for eight months a year? Make me watch you on TV like the rest of the world? Nuh-uh, no way. You’re stuck with me.”

Kageyama pushed Hinata’s head to the side with a small smile, the kind of gesture that only they could make gentle.

The door to Suga’s office cracked opened and Daichi shuffled in, rubbing his eyes. Suga ignored Hinata’s excited screaming and quirked an eyebrow. “What’s up, sleepyhead?” 

“I had a dream that I was back in high school listening to Hinata and Kageyama fight, and then I woke up in a cold sweat,” he leaned down next to Suga so that he could look at the screen. “Guess it wasn’t a dream. Hey guys.”

Kageyama waved again, this time with a satisfied smile, and Hinata practically vibrated off the bed. “Daichi-san! Hey!”

“Hinata and Kageyama were just telling me that Kageyama made captain, pretty cool, huh?”

Daichi’s eyes widened. “Finally! That’s incredible, Kageyama, congratulations!”

Kageyama just bowed, but his neck was bright red. Suga almost keened with how cute it was that Kageyama, one of the best volleyball players in the world, still preened under the compliments of his high school volleyball captain. 

“And did Suga tell you guys that the article he’s writing is for a paper he has wanted to write for since we graduated?”

“No!” Hinata screeched. “He didn’t tell us! That’s so awesome! Congrats Suga-san! Save a bunch of copies so we can read it!”

“Congratulations, Suga-san,” Kageyama added.

“Thanks guys, but it’s not that big a deal…”

Daichi leaned in and kissed Suga on the cheek. “It is a big deal, a very big deal, and I already plan on saving at least thirty copies of the print issue.”

“Yes!” Hinata said, pumping his fist in a way that would make Tanaka proud. “We’ll be back in Japan in a couple months, so we can celebrate!

He felt his own face light up. Kageyama wasn’t the only one that had a hard time handling Daichi’s praise. 

“We’ll let you get back to sleep, though, because we have to go,” Hinata said, glancing at his phone. “But hopefully we helped at least a little!”

“Let’s talk again soon.” Kageyama looked straight into the camera as he said it as if it were programmed into him. Suga knew he meant it, but Kageyama just couldn’t get the tone right, and Suga laughed to himself himself as they said their final goodbyes.

Five minutes later, Suga was settled against Daichi in bed, his cheek against his chest, and Daichi’s voice rumbled above him. 

“Get anything good for your article?”

“Think so,” Suga mumbled sleepily. He pressed a kiss to the thin fabric of Daichi’s shirt, soaking in the heat that emanated from skin beneath. “But it was about them, you didn’t have to tell them about my job.”

He felt Daichi’s arms tighten around him, his lips on the top of Suga’s head, and his breath on Suga’s hair. “What, Kageyama gets his own personal cheerleader and you don’t?”

Suga adjusted his leg over Daichi’s, slotting them together until there was no extra space between them. “You my cheerleader, Daichi?”

“Always,” Daichi whispered, barely clinging to consciousness. 

Suga drifted off to sleep with glorious images of Daichi in a cheerleading uniform.

* * *

The cursor at the top of the blank word document blinked unhappily, and Suga blinked unhappily right back. Three hours of reviewing notes, organizing files, and re-reading transcriptions had only gotten him closer to his deadline with absolutely nothing to show for it. 

He was seconds away from pulling out all of his hair when the front door buzzed.

Happy to have an excuse to escape the empty document of impending failure, he jumped out of the office chair, stepped over stacks of paper, bounded to the door and down the stairs. 

When he got down stairs, there was a pair of legs holding a giant lavender vase with a gorgeous bouquet of purples, blues, whites, and pinks on the other side of the glass door to the building. Suga’s heart started to race and he lengthened his strides to the door, almost smacking the delivery person in the face.

Suga cradled the bouquet his chest as he signed for it and held it close to him as he ascended the stairs back to his apartment, taking them as quickly as he could without disturbing the precious cargo.

His first order of business was to set them on the desk next to his laptop and his mouth parted. The low winter sun shone through the petals, exposing the delicate veins that ran through them. He traced their reflection on the desk for a minute before opening the card.

_K - Good luck today! Rooting for you! Love, D_

Suga smacked his forehead almost hard enough to wipe the giant smile from his face and he laughed into the quiet room, drowning out the noises of the cramped Sendai streets. 

“I’m an actual idiot,” he said aloud, hoping the flowers would accept his confession, and he abandoned his office for the bedroom, where he found his personal journal on the table by his side of the bed. 

The small notebook fell open in his hands, and he skimmed the messy characters, fragmented sentences and half-baked ideas. There was one word that connected them all. 

Daichi. 

His name was everywhere, a part of every thought, written on every page and Suga felt like he could scream. His words had been empty for so long that he had almost forgotten himself.

Everything he needed was right in front of him, and it had been the entire time. 

The hours passed too quickly for Suga to spare a glance at the clock and, before he knew it, he was attaching the first draft of his article to an email and hitting ‘send.’ He leaned back in his chair, stretched his arms behind his head, and stayed that way until his phone buzzed with a text. 

From: Daichi  
> You finished the article! And hours early! But I think you BCC’ed me accidentally?

Suga responded, biting back a smile. 

To: Daichi  
> Not an accident. Article’s for you.

Not even thirty minutes later, Suga heard familiar steps outside the door, and when it flew open with enough force to hit the wall, he dropped everything.

Daichi stood in the doorway, his face flushed from the cold and the edges of his hairline slightly damp with sweat. 

“Daichi, are you okay?! “What are you doing here?” 

Instead of answering, Daichi wrapped Suga up in his arms and pressed their cheeks together. 

Daichi’s hands were still cold from the commute and Suga shivered against him. “Shouldn’t you be working instead of torturing me with icicle fingers?”

“Work’ll be there,” Daichi said, pulling back. “Torturing you is definitely more important.”

Suga loved his friends, but when Daichi cupped his cheeks and brought him in for a kiss, everyone else’s words disappeared. Suga didn’t need to ask any more questions.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!


End file.
